It was the first day of fall, and Ted Cruz was enjoying the brisk air as he walked back home after a long day at the Senate. They’d been in session until almost 2:00 PM, hours that hadn’t been seen since Ted Cruz had shut down the government with his filibustering. Ted Cruz smiled at the memory. Ted Cruz was very proud of what he, Ted Cruz, had done that day: shutting down the government to halt the Obama administration’s overreach in its tracks. A little pep came into Ted Cruz’s step. Ted Cruz began humming one of his favorite tunes, the seminal “Let The Knife Do The Talking” by Hypocrisy. Ted Cruz smiled. Ah, that song brought back such good memories! Could this walk home get any better?

It turned out it could. Ted Cruz stopped in his tracks.

“‘A Discussion of Government Power in the Age of Constitutional Originalism’? And it’s in 15 minutes at American University? The most American university in the D.C. area? Sign me up!” said an excited Ted Cruz. “I can’t believe I hadn’t heard about this before now!”

Behind a tree, two men in frog masks snickered uncontrollably.

“Hey, where is everybody?” asked Ted Cruz as he walked into the auditorium. “Is this the right auditorium? Hey, why are the doors locking behind me? And who are you people all dressed in black? What’s with the net? Hey! Ow! I’m Ted Cruz, Junior Senator from Texas, you kno—”

Finally, one of them was able to knock Ted Cruz on the head hard enough to knock him out.

Ted Cruz came to in a strange chamber. Ted Cruz tried to leave but found a pane of glass in his way. Had they found his disinfection room, Ted Cruz wondered, for when he got home from a day on the campaign trail and needed to scrub the feeling of others from his skin? No, that wasn’t right. This room was different. Larger. And full of people in skintight black suits covering every inch of flesh. Except for the heads. There they wore masks, green ones, almost froglike in shape.

“Look who’s awake.” The nearest one came over and looked right at Ted Cruz with those melancholy, sightless frog-eyes. “We didn’t want you to miss the moment when you got cucked.”

“Liberal?!” sputtered Ted Cruz. “What is this?! What’s going on? Where have you taken me?”

The nearest one got closer.

“Let me explain something to you,” they said. “This isn’t your election, or your party, any longer. It’s ours. We brought you here to the 4chan labs to make that point.”

“Release me at once!” Ted Cruz raged. “I will sue you—myself! I have a J.D. from Harvard! I was a Supreme Court clerk!”

“Fat chance,” replied his captor. “Will anybody believe you were kidnapped when they see… THIS?”

He took off his mask. Beneath it, Ted Cruz found himself staring into a perfect replica of his own face.

“Yep,” said the impostor, now perfectly imitating Ted Cruz’s voice. “Your… stay here in the labs allowed us to create a perfect body double of you—and, shall we say, one without your flaws.”

“No! Impossible!” Ted Cruz protested.

“Oh, don’t act so triggered—it’s very possible,” crooned Clone Cruz, condescendingly. “I’ve already gotten in contact with Mr. Trump about the matter. He’s very glad to be receiving the endorsement. And I’m just putting the finishing touches on a Facebook post on your behalf, which I’m sending in…” —he hit a key on one of the vast computer banks— “…right now.”

“top kek,” chimed in a fellow operative.

“rare Pepe,” agreed another.

The whole room applauded.

“#TRUMPTRAIN! #TRUMPTRAIN!” they chanted.

“I’ve got an appearance scheduled with Mr. Trump next week,” said the clone. “But I’d hate to see you miss out on it.” He tossed Ted Cruz a tablet. “Enjoy watching me do what you were too cuck to do.”

Defeated, Ted Cruz opened Twitter, and was greeted by a sea of disparaging Tweets.

I hope I'm wrong, but I think a man I admire will today make the worst political miscalculation I've ever witnessed.